Only the Vile
by Agent Evey
Summary: After Evey leaves V finds a piece of rotting cheese festering in the dark and decides to ponder his life’s work.


V was alone.

It had only been three day's since Evey had made the decision to leave V and his elegant gallery in order to pursue a more normal life above …A little over two weeks since he had set her free from her prison. What a glorious sight she had been that day. The metamorphosis had brought fourth from within Evey a magnificent creature that would bring a luminous light to this world, the likes of which V would never himself be able to provide.

He shifted his stance in Evey's dark cell, looming over the interior like some sort of caged beast. V had been standing in there for what seemed like hours (though in all likelihood it had probably only been around thirty minutes) meditating. What had drawn him there, he could not tell. Not yet at least. Maybe it was loneliness, maybe doubt, or possibly even fear. Did he have any fears? Yes of course, but not for himself.

…Perhaps he simply wanted to revisit the confines of what had, at one point, been his womb.

V's head bowed down with the weight of his thoughts, a heavy sigh was released into the cells thick atmosphere. A bright orange speck resting beside his heavy black boot caught his eye. Was that a…crumb of stale cheese? Indeed it was, presumably thrown into one of Evey's meager meals at some point only to be left by her via either vomit or disinterest.

Good lord, how long had that been there? He picked it up and brought it up in view of his mask. It smelled of horrid things as is the tendency of any decomposing matter, stench that was no so unlike that of death's, and was covered in tiny white mounds of bacteria. What an appropriate place, he thought, down here in the depths of hell. Thousands of tiny organisms reproducing exponentially in an attempt to live off of whatever material that happened to be available. And to what end?

"My friends, only the vilest of creatures thrive in the dark, under the velvet cloak of necessity. We consume the filth of the world in hopes of making it a better place. If not us, then whom?"

No answer.

Silence, as always, filled the surrounding area as V's mind began to ponder the weight of his situation. The fulfillment of his Vendetta. He had once told Evey that there was 'no certainty, only opportunity.' A truth that often bothered him greatly. In all likelihood the vendetta, that precious plan of his would be carried out successfully, Norsefire would be overthrown and anarchy would be at hand. But there was always that sliver of doubt that existed, haunting him as no other ghost could. And even if anarchy was achieved and he set the people of England free; what would become of them ten, fifty, or even one-hundred years down the road? How would the people of England deal with being given such opportunity? Would they instantly crumble at the hands of yet another filthy dictator, or would they be inspired by what he had done. Taking the chance of standing up against all odds and liberating their country of it's demons. Even if that, would such a state of government last? In the end would his work end up being in vain? Would he be…forgotten?

And by god why was he still standing in this cell?

…

Who exactly was he trying to fool? He knew exactly why he was there. The smell of rotting cheese was not what overwhelmed this place. No, nothing vile could ever overwhelm the fresh scent of a summer's rain. A scent which broke through the thick air of this cell with an intensity that dominated all else. His rain.

"Evey." He whispered into the nothingness.

V leaned back against the dismal, grimy wall of the cell, sliding down to sit upon the gritty concrete floor. Normally being in such a confined area would have bothered him, but not this time. Not even the bleak, miserable atmosphere of this place could penetrate the idea of Evey's lingering presence... The air here had remained virtually undisturbed since she had left it. He had not dared enter the cell again until now, when he was forced to truly reminisce over what he had done.

His mask slid off, his legs were strewn out in front of him, knees bent while his elbows rested on top and his arms fell through their center. The mask stared off in silent mockery, it's ivory visage daring him to rebuke it's merriment.

Evey had been his world for several months now, taking precedence over even his Vendetta. He had labored so hard for her, toiling over the necessity of her imprisonment. It had tortured him almost as much as it had her. Forcing him to revisit his past through the lens of those who had beaten and humiliated his own soul, to the point of near lunacy. He could still picture her weakened body shivering on the floor, damp with water after being interrogated under threat of drowning. She had been unable to calm herself down enough, not even to sleep, so she wept instead. How many glassy tears had dropped to this cold, unforgiving floor, and for how many reasons?

He had made her miserable, just as he had once been. Forced her to see the world as one that was full of disdain and shadow. He beat her. Broke her until she nearly went mad, gave her a morsel of purpose through Valerie and then set her free. God he hoped that he had not ruined her entirely. No, no he had not. He saw that spark in her, the same energy he had received during his release flowed through her heart that fateful, rainy night. Though she was quite different from him. Instead of being left with the burning desire to seek revenge and carry out justice with the flames of retribution Evey had come out revealing a different sort of intention. Her eyes were weighed with heavy understanding and compassion and gave one the feeling of renewal. She was the water that would douse out the flames of his Vendetta. The one thing that could resurrect the earth with it's life-giving properties and bring it to a new state of glory. Yes, what he had done to her was for the better. But did the ends justify the means? Never. He would never forgive himself for hurting her, and neither would she.

V held the piece of cheese up into the proper view, examining it shortly before flicking it across the cell with one quick snap of his fingers. The thud that it made when it his the floor was barely audible. A minute later yet another barely perceptible thud could be heard combating the silence around V. And then another. And another.

Tears. His tears joining her old ones on the floor. Only she could make him rain.

All of it had been for her, though V could not help but wonder. Had he done the right thing? Was she better for it? Would she survive out there in the world above without being recognized? Was there even the slightest chance that she would return before the fifth?

She was still such a fragile creature, still as delicate as a shard of glass. The only difference he had made was that now she was no longer plain, no longer transparent. She was like…stained glass. Transformed into someone who meant something, stood for something in this world. She could now tell a story.

…But she had always meant something to him, hadn't she? Now the world could see what he once saw in her, even if he was no longer allowed to view it. The light which had always shone through her eyes would now be colorful and drenched with depth, instead of remaining hidden within.

Would she shed even a single tear when he died?

No. There was nothing there. She would not remember him, and she would never love him.

V moaned softly, his head was now cradled in his hands, hands which brought no more comfort to him than they had for any of his victims.

For who ever could love such a vile beast?


End file.
